


Nightmares

by MooshSmoosh



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Friendship/Love, M/M, Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 06:33:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MooshSmoosh/pseuds/MooshSmoosh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even after Sherlock returns to 221b Baker Street John has nightmares about the day he jumped of the roof of St Bart's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you my dear friend Lisa for looking over the fic and helping me with my terrible english :P  
> If there are any errors, blame me.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

“Goodbye John.”

“No. Don’t!” 

Sherlock stepped over the edge off the roof of St Bart’s and, he did it. He did it. He jumped. He is falling. Falling down, down, down. 

He hit the ground, John was sure he could feel it, the impact, or was it only imagination?

Blood, everywhere. All over that perfect face, those perfect lips and in his perfect black hair. Why hasn’t he seen this before? Why didn’t he see how perfect he was? 

No pulse, no life in those open, perfect, cold eyes. 

John’s head started to spin. Sequences from the past flashes before his eyes. Every moment spent with Sherlock since he moved in with him.  
How could I have been so blind? he thought. All this time, I thought I had some other feelings inside. But I always rejected it. “I’m not gay!” A sentence that had been uttered so many times. Was that a lie? 

“The killer’s car was red John. Not blue. Get it right!” 

“It’s just for the blog, Sherlock. I don’t think the colour of the car is important.” 

“Every detail is always important John. Please learn.” 

Sherlock always corrected everyone. But when someone thought they were a couple, he was always silent. Why was that? Were they…a couple? Did Sherlock thought they were a couple? But he was the man who was married to his job. 

Can a human feel all these emotions all at once? Rage mixed with sorrow, pain and confusion. He made me watch him, John thought. He made me watch him jump of that building. Why? Once he said I was the only friend he had. Was that I lie? 

“I don’t have friends!” 

Idiot! Heartless bastard! How could I have been so stupid. Of course he wasn’t my friend. And I was never his. You are just an idiot John. Biggest idiot that ever walked the planet.

Suddenly it’s cold. Why is it cold? Where am I? It’s dark. Where did the street with the corpse go? Oh, I’m in my bedroom, back at 221b. I forgot to close the window again. My t-shirt is drenched in sweat, John thought. “Just a dream then.” he said to himself as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. 

John takes off his wet t-shirt and puts on a clean one. As quietly as he could he sneaks down stairs and silently opens the door to Sherlock’s bedroom.  
There he is, in his bed, alive. Sherlock was sleeping with his face against the door. His dark curls was spread out on the pillow. John could see his chest rise and fall, he looked so peaceful, not something Sherlock Holmes often did. After a minute or two John started to realise he was staring at him and started to blush.  
He closed the door and leaned against it. Why do I keep getting these dreams when I know he is here, here in 221b with me? he thought, I know he is alive and that it was one big lie. A lie which kept us alive, but it still hurts. I know it’s been almost two months since he came back, but I still can’t just forgive him. So much pain for so long, it’s not something you just forget. 

John went into the kitchen to get a glass of water. He leaned against the sink and let his head fall back against the kitchen cupboards and closed his eyes. “I was so angry when he came back” he smiled and laughed through his nose. “Damn you Sherlock.”

John had really tried to move on after Sherlock’s suicide. But it had been so hard, everywhere he went he could see Sherlock. One time he had been out shopping for groceries and right in front of him he had seen a tall dark haired man with a long coat just like the one Sherlock always wore. John was so sure it was Sherlock, it even smelled like him. It felt like his heart had stopped and he took one step toward the man, just as he was going to put his hand on the man’s shoulder he turned around and John could now clearly see that the man was not Sherlock. The man had a big beard and his face was round, not like Sherlock’s. John quickly turned towards the fruits and pretended he was deciding between red or green apples. “That was too close” he thought “I need help” 

John had returned to his therapist, but it didn’t help at all. She said that he needed to talk about Sherlock and his feelings about him. John didn’t want to talk to anyone about Sherlock. He wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be. Sherlock was way too proud to end his life like that. 

John stopped going outside, he just sat in Sherlock’s armchair and stared at the wall. One time Mrs. Hudson brought Greg to the flat. He tried to talk to John, but he couldn’t get a respond out of him. Before Sherlock had crashed into John’s life, he had been so alone. He had Harry sure, but they had never had a good relationship. For the first time in a very long time he had felt like his life had meaning again. He had found a best friend and a life he loved. Because he loved following Sherlock to crime scenes, run after some criminal who could kill them if he got the chance. John laughed through his nose and smiled. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, then he went into the kitchen to get a beer from the refrigerator. When he returned to the living room he saw him. Sherlock. In his living room. Their living room. The beer fell to the floor and Sherlock looked at John with worried eyes as he took a step toward him. 

“No” John said as he put his hand up as if to stop Sherlock from taking another step toward him and Sherlock did as he was told. “Stay where you are” John’s head started to spin and he put his hands on either side and pulled his hair. “You are dead, I’m just…going crazy. Finally going completely mad” 

“John. You are not crazy or mad. It’s me.” 

John could feel the rage starting to burn inside of him. “You made me watch you die.” He was now staring right into Sherlock’s eyes. “Somehow I thought we actually were friends. But of course, Sherlock Holmes doesn't have friends. You destroyed my life. I was so depressed. Why didn't you tell me it was all fake? Or are you a ghost and I’m just hallucinating? You can’t just be dead for six months and the comeback to life!”

“I did it to protect you John.” 

John laughed through his nose and looked down. 

“If I had told you Moriarty might have killed you.”

“So you, Sherlock Holmes, actually cared about someone other than yourself?”

“You are my only friend John. Of course I care about you.” 

John didn't want to be angry, sad and depressed anymore. He looked up into Sherlock’s eyes, clenched his fists and launched a fist toward Sherlock’ face. It landed on his jaw. It felt good. Sherlock put one of his hands were John’s fist had landed. John wasn't prepared for the wave of emotions that hit him all at once. He could feel tears starting to fall down his cheek. He covered his face with his hands. 

“Fuck you, you machine. I hate you.”

“John…” Sherlock whispered as he closed the distance between them and embraced John. John allowed him.

“Fuck you Sherlock”

So embarrassing, John thought, why did I cry? However, I should have hit him more times, not just one. Well, I guess there will be more times for that in the future, there is almost always a reason to hit Sherlock Holmes. Why haven’t I done it before?  
John turned around to put the glass in the dishwasher, and as he turned around to go back to bed he saw Sherlock standing in the living room.

“Oh. Sherlock. I didn’t see you.” Sherlock didn’t say anything. “How long have you been up?”

“Since I heard you come down the stairs.” 

“But you were…oh, never mind” He was awake? The whole time? Oh my God, I was staring at him John thought pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“You had a nightmare again. You dreamed I was dead.” 

How could he know everything all the time? He must have some sort of mindreading ability. “Yeah.” 

“I’m right here John, you know that.” 

“I know. I just wanted to check, just in case… you were gone so long…” 

Sherlock came in to the kitchen and stood before John. He took John’s hand in his and put them on his own cheeks and looked John straight in the eyes. 

“You can feel me, and you can see me. I’m real and alive.”

John felt his cheeks blush and looked away. “Y…yes” 

“It had to be done John, I needed to save both your life, and my own.” 

“I know. But it still hurt sometimes.” John turned his face to Sherlock again and looked him in the eyes. Perfect eyes, he thought. Just as his lips and his face. 

Sherlock let go of John’s hands. “Do you think you can go back to sleep? Or will you have another nightmare?” he asked and actually looked as if he cared. 

John cleared his throat. “I…I don’t know” 

“You can stay in my bed if you want. If you have another nightmare you will see that I’m there beside you” 

John blushed even more. “But, what will people say?” 

“What people? It’s just you and me here John” He turned and walked to the door of his bedroom. “The door is open if you change your mind.” He said as he went inside. 

What’s happening? John thought, I don’t even know what I’m feeling anymore. Or do I know but just don’t want to admit it? I know that I would die for that crazy, mad man. And I know he is my best friend, and my life did fall apart without him, that’s a fact. Oh God, what is this?! John stood in the kitchen, not moving a single muscle in his body.  
He sighed. “I don’t care anymore” he said to himself. He quickly moved to Sherlock’s door and stopped in front of it and peeked inside. 

Sherlock was in his bed with his back turned against the door. “Did you change your mind?” 

John stepped inside and closed the door after him, he looked at Sherlock’s back and climbed into the bed. Sherlock turned around and looked into John’s eyes. “I’m sorry. But it had to be done.”

John was almost shocked. Sherlock never sad sorry, to anyone. “I know.”

Sherlock gently brushed a finger across John’s cheek and down his jaw. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too.” 

He moved closer and gently pressed his lips against John’s. John then nuzzled against Sherlock’s neck and finally they fell asleep in each other’s arms, and John didn't have any more nightmares after that.


End file.
